Midnight Fears
by FredandGeorgefreak
Summary: Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert have to comfort their distressed boyfriends after they have nightmares. FrUK, Spamano, and Prucan.
1. Chapter 1

Francis was a naturally light sleeper. After years of raising young, needy nations, he was needed every hour of the day, not just the ones that suited him. He was used to waking up to a sobbing Alfred during a thunderstorm or a restless Matthew who couldn't find his favorite stuffed polar bear. Nothing ever went unnoticed by him.

But that had been years ago. His boys were grown up, moved away into their own homes. It had been some time since he had a colony to look over. So it was to his surprise when he heard a fit of whining next to him. He got a sharp kick to the knee and was nearly pushed off of the bed. Sighing, he turned over to face the person he was currently sharing his bed with – Arthur Kirkland, the one he cherished the absolute most. While he loved him with all of his heart, he was a pain a lot of the time, including when he was asleep. The man just had no idea what personal space was. Francis was about to shake him awake and hiss at him for disturbing him, but he never got his chance.

Arthur's eyes shot open, chest heaving rapidly. Even in the dark room, Francis could make out Arthur's pale complexion, beads of sweat dripping down his temples. Brow furrowed, Francis turned onto his side, concerned. Never had Arthur awoken in such a state before. Grumpy, irritated, even aroused were all more common than what was lying in front of Francis. Arthur was sending himself into a full-fledged panic, shoulders shaking, stomach rising and falling each second.

Without hesitation, Francis threw the covers to the end of his bed, kneeling as close to Arthur as he could without touching him. Green irises stared up at him, fear flashing across his large, dilated pupils. "Arthur," he said, voice quiet and filled with worry. What was he meant to say? His lover looked absolutely dreadful in his current state; there was no way he would be able to respond to him. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

At first, there was nothing. Arthur didn't move or talk or even hint that he heard Francis. "Arthur," he repeated. Tears formed in Arthur's eyes as his bottom lip quivered, and Francis knew that what was coursing through Arthur's mind was much worse than he let show through on the surface.

Arthur didn't cry. Sure, he got agitated, and a few angry tears might fall down his cheeks, but this…this wasn't that. This was crying, real, bitter crying. Silent hiccups escaped his mouth as his hands reached towards Francis, fingers curling into his palms.

Quick to his boyfriend's aide, Francis pulled Arthur into his lap, hand cradling his head against his chest. He let him sob, softly rocking him without saying anything. There was no way he could get Arthur to talk in this state; it would just be a mixture of stuttered words and harsh sniffles.

"Mon amour," Francis whispered after a few minutes had passed and Arthur's tears had calmed, "what is troubling you at an hour like this? Did you have a bad dream?"

"You could say that," Arthur muttered, inching himself closer to Francis. "You wouldn't really understand."

"I might not," Francis admitted. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it." Carding his fingers through Arthur's hair, he waited for him to speak. Patience was one thing he had learned to have after dating Arthur for so long, and at this point he was a master at it. Arthur was stubborn, and he didn't like to be rushed. If anyone did try to pressure him into talking, he'd lock himself up again and brood all on his own.

"It's…It's quite ridiculous, really. I don't even know how or why but…oh, for goodness sake. It was about Alfred, alright!"

"Alfred? Like our son, Alfred? What's he done to trouble you so?"

Arthur slumped chin tucking into his chest. "My dream. It was about…" He took a breath, before continuing, "It was about the war. The Revolutionary War." And then the floodgates opened once more.

Jaw set, Francis kissed Arthur's forehead, cupping his cheeks. "No, no, no more of that. Come now, do not cry like this. Just tell me about the dream." Shaking his head, Arthur tried to get Francis to release his hold on him, but Francis wouldn't budge. "Stop that. I just want to help you."

"This isn't helping," Arthur snapped, but the bite in his tone was overrun by the squeak in his tired voice.

Pressing a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, Francis whispered, breath hot against his cheek, "Talk to me, mon lapin."

Such a silly, old nickname and yet it was so effective. It was one Arthur had hated at one point, because he wasn't a rabbit, damnit. But the only reply he ever got was, "No, you are not. You are _my_ rabbit." And that just sealed the deal for him.

"It was just one big flashback, I suppose," Arthur huffed, wiping away his hardened tears. "All the fighting, the deaths…Alfred. He _left_ me. I never wanted to hurt him, not ever. I just wanted to protect him. I knew how terrible the world could be; I didn't want him to face it alone. But he wouldn't listen…and he left." Finally tipping his head up, he shook his head with a sad smile. "They've all left me. Alfred, Matthew, Michelle, Leon, Jett…all of them. They've all left me. Everyone leaves."

With a soft grin, Francis stroked the pad of his thumb over Arthur's ear. "No," he murmured, leaning down closer to him. "Not everyone."

Eyes wide, Arthur rested his hand over Francis's larger one. "Francis," he breathed, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm still here," he promised. "I will always be here. Leaving you…it would be impossible. Mon dieu, how could I ever leave you? You are far too precious to me. My sweet, beautiful Arthur…" He captured Arthur's lips with his own, hands running down the base of his neck to his lower back.

Francis knew how it felt to have his children leave; the same man he was currently kissing had ripped his little Matthew, his dear Canada, from him. So many had been taken from him, and so many others had left. His heart hurt for so long. But there had always been one person who had been there. Arthur never left no matter how much they argued. There was no way he could abandon him. They had been through so much together, and without Arthur, it would all have been meaningless.

"Francis," Arthur said once again as they broke apart. "You…You know that I won't leave you either, right?"

"Oui," he said, lying back down onto the pillows holding Arthur tightly to his chest. Tugging the blankets back up towards them, he wrapped them in the warm cotton fabric. "I know." They still had a few hours to sleep before they had to get up and start the day. Francis was just content to hold Arthur, as if just his bare arms could shield him from anything bad that may creep into his mind during the remainder of the night.

"Good," he sighed, snuggling underneath Francis's stubbly chin. "I always want you to know that."

"Go back to sleep," Francis said, looking fondly down at Arthur who was already dozing off. "I will be here when you wake up."

* * *

 _Next: Spamano_


	2. Chapter 2

"Antonio…Antonio…Damnit, bastard, wake up!"

Groaning, Antonio rolled onto his stomach away from his shouting boyfriend. As much as he loved Lovino, he could not deal with him at what appeared to be close to dawn. Burying his face into his pillow, he arched his back as Lovino sat on top of him. "Wake up!"

"Sí, sí, I'm awake," he said, pushing Lovino off of him and sitting up. "What do you need?"

It was too dark in the bedroom to see much of anything, but in the quiet hours of the early morning, Antonio could hear everything. His hears perked up at the sound of a quick gasp of breath and a loud, long-drawn sniffle. Reaching over to turn on the light, he felt his heart pang against his chest. What was exactly going on?

As yellow light spread out across the room, shying the darkness away, Antonio caught a single glance of Lovino before he hid himself underneath the blanket. "Lovi?" he asked, tugging at the blanket, but the hardheaded Italian only held on tighter. "Lovi, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Lovino said. His voice didn't hold its normal bitterness; instead it was filled with, what seemed to be, anxiety. "Can you just…Can you just hand me your phone? I don't remember where I put mine."

"My phone? But why? Who do you have to call at this hour?"

"It's none of your business!" he shouted. "Just give me your phone. _Per favore_!"

Please. Lovino had said _please._ Rarely did those words leave the Italian's mouth, let alone cross his mind. Whatever was going on was clearly more than Antonio had originally thought. With softer, more tentative movements, he pulled away the blanket from Lovino, his pesky curl popping up from the side of his head. His entire white night shirt was tear stained, and his hazel eyes were rimmed with red. "Mi querido, have you been crying?"

"What? Don't be stupid, bastard! Can I just have your phone now?"

Antonio shook his head. "Not until you tell me why."

The room fell silent. Antonio continued to look at Lovino, but Lovino just stared at his curled up knees. One of them would give in eventually, one of them always did. But Lovino, he couldn't wait for that. Usually he was determined in his ways, urgent to get what he needed without making a scene. Right now however, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

A loud sob cracked from his throat. He leaned over his knees, caramel hair falling into his face. "Please, Toni. Please, just give me your phone. I need it. I need it…"

Mouth gaping at the scene in front of him, Antonio launched himself forward to wrap Lovino in a hard embrace, rubbing his arm soothingly. "Don't cry, Lovi. Por favor, it will be all right. Talk to me. I just want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't tell me what's going on." Lovino just kept on crying, leaning into Antonio's chest. "Alright…alright, you can cry, Lovi. It's okay to cry. You're always so strong; you never get to cry, do you? But now you can. You can cry."

He held Lovino, pressing kisses to any strip of skin he could reach. All he wanted was to make everything better. It pained him to see Lovino, the one he cared about the most in the entire world, so upset. What he would give to be a mind reader so he could know what Lovino was panicking over.

"Toni," Lovino whispered, clutching at Antonio's shirt. "I need your phone. I will tell you everything you want to know if you just fucking give me your phone."

With no other choice, Antonio handed Lovino his phone from the bedside table. Lovino was quick to punch in a number, holding the phone to his ear, protecting the device with all he had.

Antonio could hear a high-pitched ringing, then a click, then a groggy voice on the other end. Lovino's face softened as he talked into the phone with utter relief. "Feli…Feli, are you okay? You're not hurt are you?" A pause. "You know if you are, I can come over there. I can get in the car right now and drive to your house." Another pause. "Alright…yeah. Yeah, okay. You're sure nothing's wrong?" A pause and a sigh. "Just remember you can always call me if you need anything or if you're in trouble. I…I'll let you sleep now. Buon sonno, fratello minore. Ti amo."

Hanging up the phone, Lovino sheepishly held the phone out to Antonio to take back. Placing it back on his dresser, Antonio crossed his arms over his chest. "So you called Feliciano. At three in the morning."

"Yeah."

"Any particular reason as to why?" Lovino shook his head, eyes moving to anywhere but his Spanish lover. Antonio grabbed Lovino's chin in between his fingers, turning his head to face him. "You said you would tell me what was going on if I gave you my phone. I did my part. It's your turn now, Lovi. Tell me what's wrong. You're worrying me."

A fresh set of tears pooled in Lovino's eyes, but he angrily blinked them away. That was Lovino, always too prideful to show how he truly felt. "I just…had a nightmare, I guess. Feliciano was…well, he was…God, I can't do this!"

"Yes, you can," Antonio said, gliding his knuckles over Lovino's cheek. "It is just me, Lovi. You have no reason to be embarrassed. Talk to me. I just want to help you."

It was uncharacteristic and completely unexpected when Lovino crawled into Antonio's lap, letting his head fall against his shoulder. It wasn't often that Lovino showed affection, especially not physically. Sure, the occasional kiss here and there, and they constantly held hands, but Antonio almost always initiated it, rarely Lovino. Antonio was taken aback, but he smiled regardless. His surprise and confusion was overtaken by his love. Antonio engulfed Lovino in a hug, nosing at the tip of his curl before he got growled at.

"I had a nightmare that Feli got hurt. That's all I'm going to say. The rest was…it was too much."

And the truth was out. It was a step up from what Lovino usually did when he was distressed; normally he kept to himself, as if dealing with his own problems was the only way he knew how to cope. But now he had Antonio, always prepared to cuddle and comfort. Lovino just didn't know how to ask for that; it was completely foreign to him.

"So that's why you wanted to use my phone." Lovino nodded. "You know you could've just told me? You can tell me anything, Lovi. I just want to help you."

Shrugging, Lovino said, "I guess I'm just not used to that. No one ever wanted to help me with my problems. I don't know how to ask…"

"I know, I know. But, I promise, mi amor, I will always be here to help you. Te amo, mi Lovi."

Lovino cocked an eyebrow, smirking up at him. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. Te amo. Mucho. Mucho, mucho, mucho." He punctuated each world with a kiss to his head, his cheek, his neck, his lips, everywhere he could possibly kiss him, he did.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" he said, snickering softly as Antonio nipped at an especially sensitive spot. "I love you too, bastard. Even if I don't really show it that much."

"Aw, Lovi! You're turning red, just like a little tomato! You are so cute!"

"Go back to sleep, you jerk!"

* * *

 _Next: Prucan_


	3. Chapter 3

Gilbert toed off his shoes, kicking them underneath a table in the front entryway of his suburban home. It had been a relatively long night, what with his monthly guys' night with Francis and Antonio. While he thoroughly enjoyed his time with his best friends, all he really wanted at the moment was to change and cuddle up with his Birdie.

Climbing up the stairs, he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders. Tossing it into the bathroom as he passed, he softly opened the door to his bedroom. "Mattie? You awake?"

No response. Stripping himself of his jeans, clad only his boxers, he made his way to the bed, slipping into his side. Propping himself up on his arm, he turned to where he could clearly see a lump in the mattress. "I can see you, you little tease. Are you hiding from me?" Tossing the covers aside, his smirk slid from his face.

Matthew was definitely there, but what he saw was not what he had expected. Matthew had both hands over his eyes, shoulders shaking with wracked sobs. His lithe torso was covered in one of Gilbert's old, far too large button up nightshirts that was slipping off one shoulder. "Birdie," he whispered, letting his hand fall on Matthew's forehead. "Are you crying?"

"N-No," Matthew replied, but the crack in his voice proved otherwise. "I was just…counting sheep. Yeah, yeah, that's it. Counting sheep. Trying to get to sleep."

"Uh huh…" Gilbert said with a confused nod. "And you're wearing my shirt…any reason why?"

"No, not really. I'm sorry I didn't ask. I can give it back, if you want. I can put on something else."

"Nah, that's alright. Looks pretty cute." Leaning down towards Matthew's neck, he licked along the length of his jaw. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were hinting at something," he breathed, tugging on his earlobe with his teeth.

"Stop it," Matthew said, turning over, taking the blankets with him. That wasn't normal; usually his playful behavior embarrassed Matthew to the point of him melting into Gilbert's touch; it never made him upset.

"I'm sorry," he said, throwing an arm around him. "C'mon, won't you look at me? I wanna see that cute face of yours."

"No you don't," Matthew replied, voice relatively softer than before. Frowning, Gilbert pulled Matthew's back against his chest, hooking his chin over his shoulder. He knew Matthew could be a bit insecure at times. Anyone who was ignored and passed by as much as he was had the right to have their doubts, but he was never like this around Gilbert. Gilbert was his safe haven, the one he could always open up around. And now he was just shutting himself away.

"Of course I want to see your face. You're my Birdie. Why wouldn't I want to see your face?"

Matthew's shoulders started to shake again, his knees curling into his chest. Gilbert, now on high alert, climbed over Matthew to the other side of the bed to get a better look at him. His purple eyes, usually so filled with a bright sparkle that made Gilbert's heart skip a beat, were filled with tears. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Gilbert asked, pushing a few strands of blonde hair behind Matthew's ear. "Why're you crying, babe?"

"You left me," he whispered, clutching the ends of the blanket in his thin, pale fingers. The words hit him like a ton of bricks; he had never wanted to hear Matthew sound so defeated and betrayed. "Y-You said you'd never leave. But you d-did."

"I didn't leave, sweetheart," Gilbert assured. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Wrapping his arm around Matthew's waist, Gilbert stroked the littlest bit of Matthew's hip that peaked out from underneath his long shirt.

Moving closer to his boyfriend, Matthew nuzzled against his chest. "I fell asleep earlier, and I had this…this nightmare. And you left me. You forgot me. And when I woke up you weren't…you weren't here."

It was Matthew's biggest fear, being forgotten. So many people ignored him or just didn't notice him to begin with. Few people were able to know how amazing Matthew truly was, Gilbert being one. He swore, from the first day he had met the Canadian, that he would never forget him. Never was a long time for a nation, but he intended to keep his promise. Nothing mattered more to him than Matthew's happiness. And nothing made Matthew happier than hearing Gilbert shout his name from across a room, because that meant someone knew he was there and someone knew that he existed.

But with a dream like that…Matthew must have had such a horrific breakdown. And he had been all alone. Gilbert mentally slapped himself; he should've been home earlier or at least checked on him before going out.

"I was out with Francis and Toni. Guys' night, remember? Didn't you read the note I left you?" Matthew's cheeks flushed pink, and he bit down on his bottom lip. "Silly boy. To think I could actually forgot you." Resting his hand on his cheek, Gilbert smiled. "How could I ever forget that face?"

"Gilbert…"

"I'm never going to forget you. You're mein Birdie. You are the most important person in the whole world to me. Forgetting you would be like forgetting my right hand."

Gilbert took in every part of him, from the tips of his golden hair to the way his shoulders were sculpted. He was the most beautiful person Gilbert had ever seen. To lose Matthew…he would lose part of himself with him. "You're my entire world, Matthew. I couldn't live with myself if I ever forgot you."

Matthew tentatively reached up to wrap his arms around Gilbert's neck, kissing him softly on the lips. "You're pretty cheesy, Gil." Scowling, Gilbert cocked an eyebrow as Matthew stood up in front of the bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked, already missing the warmth Matthew had supplied to him.

"Oh, nowhere," Matthew whispered, hands moving to the top button of the nightshirt, making his way down. "You were saying something earlier about how I was wearing your shirt, and I suppose it wasn't right to just wear it without asking so…" Pushing the shirt off of his torso, he looked up at Gilbert with an innocent grin. "Could I wear it?"

There was a moment of silence before Gilbert quickly shook his head. "Nope. Nope, you definitely can't. Get in the bed right now."

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story!_


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